


Steel-tempered Gold

by HelgaHeason



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Eyes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Inappropriate Humor, Jaskier is just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, They are literally just really close friends in this (but I still ship it), Toss a coin to your Witcher y'all, because feelings, i still don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelgaHeason/pseuds/HelgaHeason
Summary: After reconciling with Geralt, Jaskier sits down in a tavern with his Witcher, and takes time to think about his feelings and thoughts toward him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Steel-tempered Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a shippy fic, but it isn’t (for once!).  
> This one just explores Jaskier’s feelings and thoughts toward and regarding Geralt, as well as a brief conversation wherein I try and get their characterisations right.
> 
> This is my first work for the Witcher, and is an experiment more than anything else. I do really like how it turned out.  
> It is also based solely off the Netflix series, as I have never read the books or played the games.
> 
> The fic is based on when Geralt and Jaskier first meet in the tavern in Posada (the way their eye colours look inspired part of this fic and its title).
> 
>   
> 
> 
> So, without further ado, enjoy!

Jaskier admired the great beast of a man opposite him, he really did. Dirty, ivory hair, soiled with soot, mud, Selkie guts and blood (which he hadn’t bothered to wash off in a few years now) struck the light next to him, and looked almost the same silver as his sword. His eyes – a hybrid of sadistically sunny yellow and fierce, flaming gold – bore emotions uncommon for men of his ilk; monsters of his nature. Jaskier had always found it strange how villagers flocked in their droves to beg for the White Wolf to slay their monsters, yet the only word you’d ever hear them use to describe Geralt (other than ‘mutant’) was ‘monster’. He admired Geralt, and in stark contrast to the villagers, wasn’t terrified of him at all. He was enthralled by him and their shared adventures. There was something about the thrill of seeing your closest (and, if he was honest, only) friend take out a bunch of water witches like he was chugging tankards of beer.

He admired Geralt, and found that he didn’t mind that he was always dragged into the most dangerous of situations – quite frankly, the inside of a giant arachnomorph was no place for a bard, but that was just how his life went now. He shifted a little in his seat, and hummed something that could be considered _‘Toss a Coin to your Witcher’_. His own eyes, never found without a slightly mischievous sparkle, were a quiet, determined gunmetal – in some lights, or to certain people, he was told they were silver or the colour of polished steel. They reflected a sense of content hope, and terrified desperation, which he also didn’t mind. The emotions hidden carefully within Geralt’s golden irises reflected on Jaskier’s eyes, bright and clear. Yennefer had once called the colour visualisation of Geralt’s and Jaskier’s eyes ‘steel-tempered gold’, and said that it was due to their entire ‘can’t live with him, can’t live without him’ situation going on.

“Geralt…” He said, carefully.

Geralt’s luminescent eyes flicked up quickly.

“Hmm?” came his ever-intellectual response.

“Do you…” Jaskier sighed. “… Do you think you’re a man, or a monster?”

Geralt blinked. Multiple times. Quite aggressively. With a humorous ferocity. He eventually managed to struggle out a quiet “what?”, which, had Jaskier not been so finely attuned to all his Witcher’s weird and wonderful quirks, would not have been audible. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“You heard me.”

“Hmm.”

A while passed, and Jaskier took to gazing out of the window. He couldn’t _see_ Yennefer, but she was probably lurking around the market stalls. There were so many, so it was easy for her to hide. Either that or – by some minor miracle – she’d been summoned or hired by someone, and couldn’t be in Cintra that day. As cruel as it was for Jaskier to admit it to himself, it was nice to have this moment with Geralt, however small and fleeting (and awkward), without her.

“I don’t really consider myself either.”

Jaskier looked back at Geralt, who’d finally spoken. He understood – of course he did, he always did, the empathetic bastard – and he nodded. Geralt was a mutant. No longer man, and partially monster. The mutant in question watched the bard’s gunmetal eyes flicker from tankard, to him, to tankard, to coin, to tankard, to sword, in thought. He leaned back in his chair. For the first time since reconciling with Jaskier and getting him and Yennefer to get along, he felt somewhat content. 

“Good answer.” Jaskier said, after another long pause. “It’s hard to be one or the other.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, yes, I know you can very easily be just one thing and only that thing, I thought you were at first-”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I hit a nerve there?”

“Hmm.”

“You bet your lovely bottom I’m not going to fuck off, Witcher.”

**_“Fuck.”_ **

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jaskier noticed a Striga, very quickly advancing on them. His eyes widened, and he scrambled back, gabbling furiously. Geralt rolled his eyes, pulled out his sword, left the tavern, and within moments the Striga was dead on the floor. Jaskier’s usually pale face flushed a little green as Geralt walked back in, and he blinked a few times.

“Fuck me, Geralt.”

“No.”

**Author's Note:**

> The fic title has a rather complicated and convoluted meaning, but here I go with the explanation:  
> To temper something is to make something less strong or extreme, usually by adding something that has the opposite effect.  
> Jaskier has, in his own, small, special little way, changed Geralt - he has made him less extreme. He has, figuratively, 'tempered’ Geralt.  
> Thus, the fic title, “Steel-tempered Gold”, means “Jaskier (has) changed Geralt”.
> 
> /////
> 
> I’m on Twitter and I take fic commissions, DM me here:  
> \- [Helga Heason](https://twitter.com/HelgaHeason)
> 
> Help support my work by buying me a coffee here:  
> \- [Helga Heason Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/helgaheason)


End file.
